To Grow a British Rose
by Maegmel
Summary: WWI hit Europe like a storm, and it's destruction was felt as far as Misselthwaite. Did Mary's boys survive? Can they re-assimilate to the world at large?
1. Autumn

Chapter 1-Autumn

It is Autumn. The year is 1918. The leaves are turning brilliant shades or yellow, red and orange-even in war-depressed London.

I stare blankly out the window contemplating the sheaf of cursive-covered paper in my trembling hand.

My uncle, Archibald Craven has written me to notify me of the imminent return of Yorkshire's own Border Regiment. What is left of them anyway after the battle of Belleau Wood. Neither of us knows who lived and who died from that battle, we were simply told the regiment was returning home.

Of course I will go back to Misselthwaite and anxiously await more news with him, but I hesitate to ring the bell for the maid to help me with my things.

I am afraid of what I will find-or who I might not. This was both Dickon and Colin's Regiment. We have not heard from either since May, the battle was in June and now it is September.

At the beginning of the war, Dickon much to everyone's distress was one of the first to volunteer and ship out with the Border Regiment as they joined the IX Corps in France. While we received regular letters from him, he always managed to find something cheerful to write even if it was just the bright sunshine awakening him in the mornings. This of course was in stark contrast to what we read about in the papers.

Dickon never liked to burden anyone anyway. Two years passed like this, and one day Martha came dashing into my room all excited with an article from the paper.

We never heard the news from Dickon, but the article told us everything we missed. He distinguished himself In the Battle of Albert in Somme by dragging his wounded commanding officer to safety.

After the battle in gratitude the young Sowerby boy had been promoted to Sergeant on the spot. Martha was so proud of her brother that she personally wrote a letter to the journalist thanking him for writing the article.

It was at this point that Colin decided he was going to sign up for the army as well, his father tried to dissuade him, partially because he wanted to have Colin finish his doctoral studies, but mostly because Colin was never a strong boy.

Colin would not be dissuaded though, and marched himself down to the local war office. With his partial degree and his father's connections it was decided Colin would depart to join Dickon's regiment in France, and Mr. Craven made it quite clear that Dickon was to be assigned as the 'Enlisted Advisor' to the young Second Lieutenant Craven.

It was understandable, Dickon was strong and could watch over and guide the overly zealous Colin, and it do them both good to have someone to depend on.

That was In the summer of 1916. Despite the blissful sun which made our garden grow and thrive, I felt very alone.

One day I gave up and finally allowed Mrs. Medlock to choose a finishing school for me and ship me down to London. I could not bear the garden with my boys. So I left the key in old Ben's trustworthy hands and rattled away in a coach without a single look back at the place that had given me so much joy over the years.

I faithfully sent and received letters from both of them almost weekly. The last one came from Colin on May 26th. Ironically, it is with this last one that I accidentally sliced my hand with the sharp letter opener trying to force it through the stiff Army paper. My blood dripped quickly onto the pages staining them with the crimson liquid just as I learned one of my boys had been.

He told me about how he and one of the other young officers had decided they wanted duck for dinner and went hunting. Dickon and the other aide noticed their platoon leaders missing and went to track them down.

While Colin does not spell out his and his friend's blatant stupidity, it is obvious from what is left unsaid in the letter. It turns out they wandered into a mine field put down by the Germans only a few weeks before, and the other officer stepped on one. Realizing his mistake the man froze in place.

Somehow Dickon and the aide managed to contrive a way to get him off it unharmed, but in the process Dickon took some shrapnel to his left arm and the aide lost his hand and the officer also received shrapnel wounds.

Colin was clearly shaken by the incident, but assured us Dickon was recovering nicely at the time of his writing.

I was expecting dickon to mention this at least in his next letter, but it never came because Belleau Wood happened and I'd hate to imagine him entering that fateful battle already wounded. I moped for days after that letter and my studies took a nose-dive.

Then we let out for the summer, and we received news from the front of the horrific battle. While not many British soldier were involved in Belleau Wood, it was mostly American marines, heavy casualties were to be had on both sides. After years of this torturous war, the British Army has precious little blood left to spill.

We returned to school last week, and I just got this letter not thirty minutes past.

So much for Medlock's finishing school, I never cared much for it anyways.


	2. Storms Upon the Sea

**Chapter 2-Storms Upon the Sea**

I wake up in a cold sweat for the hundredth time in half as many days. Whenever my eyes close I am plagued by the things I have seen and heard from my time in France.

Slowly, carefully I roll off my hammock to the left, avoiding my sling. Ironically, there really isn't much wrong with my right arm, or at least that's what I think. However, the field doctor believes my lack of ability to feel the difference between a block of ice and hot water to be a problem.

He hopes that by isolating it for extended periods of time that my feeling will return. I hope it does not.

I don't want to feel anything anymore, let alone something so simplistic. I grab the lantern hanging from the post beside my hammock.

Briefly I flicker the light over my companion the golden light falling across his still form.

The field doctor thinks he will die, and my insisting on bringing 'his living corpse' home will only further aggravate his family. He slumbers with no shirt on, per my orders, the thick cotton merely sticks to the wound that gaps from his side. Which if for nothing else must make it more painful for him if he can feel anything.

He probably can though, he was always in touch with so much about his surroundings even when I was not. I suppose it makes sense that for someone so attuned to nature, he could easily sense what did not belong there-be it a German mine or that panzer rounding the corner about to blow our building to shreds.

He saved all of our lives, even little Jimmy, who had lost his leg and had to be carried out. It wasn't until afterwards when in safety that he collapsed from what we all thought was exhaustion, but turned out to be loss of blood.

I did not know what to do-for all of my professional training , nothing prepared me for one of my best friends collapsing at my feet in shock. "We're going to save you." I whispered kneeling towards him as my eyes filled. The last thing he did was grasp towards my neck, just barely missing the gold chain tied with one of Mary's favorite hair ribbons.

At this I flushed in anger that he should try to take my trinket of Mary from me, when I realized all these months I'd kept it from him. Mary had sent me off with the ribbon for him, and the handkerchief for me. The selfish person I was, I never gave him the gift.

Unable to bear watching his waxen face as he struggled to breath, I withdrew the lamp and meandered up to the quarterdeck, where I placed my lamp on the metal bulkhead and gazed out over the black crystal sea. Yet all the stars were covered and the only light was from my lone little lantern. I was furious for the first time in that moment.

It should have been storming, a full blown gale like the one in my mind.

A/N: I know it's short, but I am incredibly busy! Hope you all enjoyed it though...let me know where you think this might be going...


	3. Lilacs

Chapter 3-Lilacs

Lilacs. Purple Lilacs. The scent envelopes me.

I see Mary smiling and laughing as she twirls in the bright sunlight her white lacy dress fanning out around her like a giant snowflake she holds a red ribbon and a yellow one in either hand the only color in her outfit. She stands between the old arch at the end of the pool.

"Now you boys must race each other and see who is fastest to get the red ribbon." She says her voice akin to a bird's song.

Colin and I stood at the far edge of the pool he is velvet breeches and a fine cotton shirt his mousy brown hair still framing his eyes but his grey eyes intent. "Well Dickon, may the best man win." He replies with an edge to his voice, but smiles after and I toss the thought aside.

My worn shoes dig into the ground to get a good footing, I'm already taxed from planting the new willow tree today, and the sweat clings to my rough linen shirt. "Well tha' must beat me first Colin." I reply in jest.

Mary claps her hands together, "Now on my mark..." She transfers both ribbons to one hand which she holds out in front of her. Colin and I glance at each other again, he has a steely reserve as cold as the mountains behind his eyes, and I begin to wonder why.

"..GO!" she shouts and due to my distracted thoughts Colin gets off three feet ahead of me. His lanky legs so much stronger than when he first walked here years before. One foot lands speedily in front of the other. For myself I push to regain what lead I lost before. I inhale the scent of magic we awoke in the garden and pray that my feet do not slide on the dewy grass.

Just as I think Colin is about to win by a mere stride he slips on the grass and tumbles to the ground. I turn around to look and see if he is injured and instead collide with a net of red hair, lace and a straw hat underneath all of which is Mary.

Colin is getting up and brushing himself off indignantly, Mary bursts out laughing as she rolls from underneath me, a smudge of dirt marring her beautiful face her hat askew and grass sticking to her dress as she stands. Leaving me panting on the ground from the exertion of the day.

"Well my dear knights I do believe that neither of you has won the red ribbon, seeing as Colin ingloriously crashed to the earth and Dickon here did not nicely grab it but rather ran me over like a stray cat." She then attempts to tidy her appearance and ties both ribbons in her hair to glide off in the direction of the newly planted willow she had requested.

Colin does not so much as look in my direction but instead follows Mary and begins to beg her for the red ribbon anyway.

"…Colin you did not win though." Mary responds evenly

"I would have if I had not slipped you saw how I was leading Dickon." He pleaded.

"Why does a silly ribbon mean so much to you? After all you could afford to go buy one just as easily." She answers as she wraps her arms between the split in the tree's trunk making herself look like a modern nymph if there was such a thing.

"Since I must follow Dickon to war." He replied tersely crossing his arms, and suddenly I was no longer in my gardening clothes but in my uniform, and I was merely observing their interlude no longer a part of the conversation.

"Very well, but you shall have my handkerchief and Dickon shall have my ribbon." She said untying the red one from her braid.

He took the offered kerchief but declined the ribbon, "The red one Mary? Why not yellow?" he complained.

She merely held it to him, "Because he came the closest to victory."

Colin frowned.

I saw nothing but I felt my rough Army shirt on my chest and smelled lilacs. I was aware of a deep pain in my chest. I looked down to see my chest and red ribbons of blood poured out of it from a wound caused by a sharp rock I had fallen on while racing Colin.

A/N; Long wait I know, hope you liked it!


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